


fata morgana

by troubled



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubled/pseuds/troubled
Summary: what they have is slow dancing in a burning room.yunho wears someone else's ring. someone else's bruises.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> guys, cheating is bad. don't do it. :(

 

Yunho loves Hojun. He comes home to Hojun and Hojun's familiar comfort after long hours in the office handling case briefs and demanding clients. There’ll be take-outs for dinner because Hojun’s too busy chasing casting calls to cook anything other than ramyun (and ramyun gets tiring after the first few weeks, they both discover). Sometimes they order Chinese from around the corner, sometimes a pizza that usually arrives lukewarm and crusted with tomato sauce. Hojun takes out the trash after dinner and Yunho tries to clean up (Hojun cleans up. Twice). Their bedroom has scented candles from Valentine's two years ago, when Yunho's attempt at being romantic ended with the neighbours calling for the fire department. The candles stay, unlit and half-melted into grotesque stubby figures in the dark, because Yunho likes their scent and Hojun likes their scent on Yunho's skin. It works out, somehow.  
  
They are happy. They are in love.  
  
(That should have been enough.)  
  
But every Wednesday night, Yunho takes a little detour on the way back. He jumps on a different bus that drops him off the other side of the city and he jostles through a crowd that looks at him without actually seeing. He calls Hojun and tells him about non-existent meetings with a client, someone important enough to skip microwaved-dinner-at-home for. Yunho keeps waiting to choke on the guilt (does this every week; doesn't get any less nervous) but he's mostly relieved when Hojun laughs and tells him to grab some food on the way back. He ends the call with an ‘ _I love you’_ that burns at the tip of his tongue, quick and guilty and he puts the phone on silent the rest of the night.  
  
He sees Changmin waiting by a stall selling roasted chestnuts. They nod at each other, a mutual understanding of secrets.  
  
Yunho slips Hojun's ring from his finger and tucks it inside his pocket.

 

*

 

Changmin works two floors up from Yunho's office, an executive for one of the more prominent entertainment companies and someone once told him that Shim Changmin is as ruthless as they come. It was a chance meeting; Yunho needed spare change for the vending machine and Changmin was the only one around. Changmin gave him coins and a card, with a grin that promises something more than the domestic comfort Yunho's accustomed to. Yunho keeps the card in his wallet, hidden behind his credit cards and a picture of Yunho and Hojun, on their third anniversary (he had a smear of frosting on his nose and Yunho remembers Hojun licking it off sometime during the night). He resisted calling and didn't see Changmin again, despite too many unnecessary trips to the machine. It's stupid and ridiculous and Yunho stopped after a week.  
  
One Wednesday, he stayed late at the office, working on depositions. The elevator came down from the upper floors and when the doors slid open, Yunho looked up to see Changmin staring at him.  
  
“I've been wondering when I'll see you again,” Changmin had said. Easily and Yunho couldn't help the distinct impression of being devoured alive. His grip on the briefcase tightened, white-knuckled. Changmin must’ve noticed because he laughed. “Aren’t you coming in?”

 

*

 

“Hey, you’re just in time for my big cameo.”  
  
Hojun isn't asleep by the time Yunho gets back. It's nearly one in the morning and the living room is lit by the television screen, spill of fluorescent blue over the contours of Hojun's face. Yunho hangs his coat and ambles over to the couch, settles against Hojun even as he swallows the urge to apologise. He’d showered at the hotel, scrubbed traces of Changmin from his skin and even then, he thinks Hojun might know. Might somehow smell another man on Yunho and—  
  
—and. And then what? What would Hojun do?

 _He’d leave, you stupid fucking whore. What else do you expect?_  
  
Hojun, who smiles wide and affectionate and trusting. Who welcomes Yunho with open arms. “How's the meeting?”  
  
“Boring,” he whines. His eyes ache, his heart bruises with the knowledge of guilt, the weight of secrets. “I'm tired.”  
  
Hojun cards fingers through Yunho's hair. “Shower and sleep?”  
  
Yunho shifts and burrows closer into Hojun's warmth. He smells like cocoa butter and lavender, like someone Yunho is lucky enough to call _home_. “Mmm. Don’t wanna. I'm comfortable here.”  
  
Hojun hums, pressing his lips to the crown of Yunho’s head. They were high school sweethearts, sharing secret kisses and touches where no one could see. Their small town was stifling in its antiquated sentiments and they escaped to the big city as soon as Yunho graduated. Hojun was already waiting, worked hard enough so they could afford a place as Yunho went to university. Their love story isn’t a fairytale, but Yunho won’t have it any other way. He lets himself be pulled closer and closes his eyes when Hojun kisses him, hands curling in a tight, protective circle around Yunho's waist.

They fit, not seamlessly but enough.

( _Changmin is taller, more muscular and he smothers Yunho completely, always so so hungry._ )  
  
Yunho’s stomach churns. He twists to kiss Hojun harder, desperate to forget.

 

*

 

Yunho wants to believe that being with Changmin is more of a thrill than anything else. A break in the monotony. Changmin pushes and pulls like a vicious tide and Yunho struggles to keep from drowning. Yunho thinks that there must be something wrong with him, something twisted that calls for Changmin. They touch each other as if they’re mortal enemies, designed to hurt and pleasure in equal measures. Changmin has no use for pretty words; instead carves bruises into Yunho's ribcage with his teeth, his fingernails. Yunho accepts everything he’s offered because it feels like repentance.  
  
“You’re so good,” Changmin whispers into Yunho’s shoulder blades, fucking him lazily with deep, slow strokes. His hand’s on Yunho’s thigh, pushing it up higher, stretching Yunho open for him. “Does he get to see you like this? I bet he doesn’t. Bet you’re only this good for me, huh?”  
  
Yunho tries to object, but can only manage incoherent breathless noises when Changmin sinks deeper inside him.

 

*

 

Once in a while, Hojun brings his friends home. Most are actors and musicians, with some comedians thrown in for good measure. Yunho likes them, likes to hear their stories especially after a night of drinking (you can’t tell where one lie begins and another ends, but they’re always entertaining). A world’s apart from the dry conversations he endures at work. They don’t talk statistics and case numbers and billable hours, don’t compare footnotes on which judge would screw them over or which judge is more susceptible to small, off-record incentives on the side. Hojun’s friends are an odd bunch that inevitably gravitates towards each other. A little cluster of planets and supernovas and whole universes.  
  
(Yunho sometimes thinks he might be a little envious.)  
  
“You look nice,” Siwon says once Yunho steps into the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter with a bottle of beer in one hand and a plate of pancakes in the other. “Have you thought about ditching this guy and running away with me?”

Yunho flushes, still unused to the man’s casual flirting even after months of knowing him. He loosens his tie and makes a beeline for Hojun, who’s ladling more batter onto the flat pan. Hojun greets him with a kiss, laugh lines wrinkling the corner of his smile, and the strung-out line of Yunho’s spine loosens. His suit is too tight after an entire day of court hearing, but he doesn’t feel like moving away from where he’s leaning against Hojun.  
  
“Stop trying to poach my boyfriend. He thinks you’re creepy.”  
  
“ _Dude_ ,” Siwon sighs, but it’s mostly put upon. His eyes twinkle. “It’s a good thing I’ve got a new guy.”  
  
“Is he imaginary?” Hojun says and Yunho laughs at the look on Siwon’s face. “Because I don't think that counts."  
  
Siwon drains his beer. "We should double-date."  
  
Hojun exchanges a look with Yunho, shrugs and says _why the hell not_.

 

*

 

"Hello. Siwon's told me all about you guys."  
  
Yunho bites his tongue, swallows the urge to scream and shakes Changmin's hand.

 

*

 

**tbc**


	2. two

 

The restaurant’s décor is expensive, the menu even more so and Yunho would’ve turned around and fled if not for Hojun’s hand on his back.

“It’s Changmin’s favourite restaurant,” Siwon says, once the waiter withdrew. “He’s a bit of a snob when it comes to food.”

Changmin’s mouth twists into a smile, but he doesn’t look up from the wine list. “‘Selective’ is the word you’re looking for.”

Siwon laughs and places his hand over Changmin’s, twining their fingers over the pristine-white tablecloth. Yunho’s stomach clenches when he sees Changmin’s thumb slide over Siwon’s knuckles, gentle like he never is when with Yunho. Both of them look good together – expensive tastes, well-groomed, effortlessly chic. Yunho wonders what Changmin had seen in him, when they first started their tryst. Why he decided to pursue a lowly paralegal, when he has people like Siwon to choose from.

_Because you’re easy. And you never tell him ‘no’, just like a good, fucking whore._  

Yunho clenches his jaw, heat crawling over his cheeks, and tries to concentrate on what Hojun’s saying.

The courses come and go, plates upon plates of too-small portions. Yunho only realises he’s had a little too much to drink when his eyelids start to droop, his movement slowing. The wine is dark red, goes down too smooth and Changmin keeps topping the glasses as their conversation goes around in circles. Hojun knows some of Changmin’s artists and they exchange stories about names Yunho doesn’t recognise. He hooks a finger in his tie to loosen the knot. His skin feels hot and too tight, and his mouth aches from smiling too much.

He takes another sip of wine and then another. Doesn’t notice the conversation has petered off until it’s too late.

The other three is staring at him, a shared expression of amusement on their faces.

Yunho’s pretty sure his face is red – from embarrassment or the alcohol, he can’t even tell anymore.

Siwon is the one who asks, “You good?”

“Yunho doesn’t drink much,” Hojun says, affectionate. It pulls a smile out of him that Yunho wants to kiss, but they’re in public and Changmin’s looking at him from across the table. Yunho wishes they’d never agreed on dinner. “We should call it a night before this lightweight falls asleep on us.”

The rest laughingly agree and Siwon picks up the check, despite Hojun’s protests. It’s supposed to be an escape, but Yunho doesn’t understand why (and how) Changmin and Siwon end up at their place afterwards. Hojun pours all of them glasses of water and moves to continue a conversation with Siwon, leaving Yunho to play host for Changmin. The kitchen feels too small all of a sudden, like all the oxygen has been sucked right out of the space because Yunho _can’t breathe_.

Changmin drains his glass and says, “Toilet?”

“Just down the hall.”

The gleam in his eyes spells something else entirely. Yunho shudders. “Show me.”

Hojun and Siwon’s voices seem further away, coming from an entirely different universe. He should know better than to heed the order (isn’t even a request), but his feet move before his mind could tell them to stop. Changmin’s presence makes the hair at the back of his neck prickle, too aware of the almost non-existent distance between them. One second he’s standing before the door to the toilet and the next, he’s shoved inside. The door clicks shut, ominous, and Changmin’s weight keeps him off-kilter.

“Hojun seems nice.” The compliment sounds innocuous. Like he isn’t pushing Yunho against the sink, the hard line of his cock pressing into Yunho’s ass. Yunho keeps his head bowed, chest heaving as Changmin’s fingers unzip him slowly. Warm, liquidy laughter grazes the shell of his ear when his hips jerk into the touch. “You’ll be quiet, won’t you?”

“B-But you and Siwon—?”

Long fingers curl around Yunho’s cock, callouses dragging at heated skin. He feels like a trainwreck and Changmin seems pleased with how thoroughly he’d caused that derailment. “Why should that change anything?”

Yunho sucks in a shaky breath through his teeth, knees wobbling, and makes the mistake of looking into the mirror.

Slow and dangerous, like the first spark of wildfire, Changmin’s reflection grins at him.

 

*

 

Yunho wakes up with a hangover, Hojun’s arm slung across his chest and Hojun’s voice murmuring ‘ _good morning_ ’ into the back of his neck. The perfect picture of domestic comfort, of all the good things he’s lucky to have in his life.

“Your head still hurts?”

His heart hurts and Yunho rolls on top of Hojun, trying to make amends.  

 

*

 

The next Wednesday, Yunho takes the right bus home and surprises Hojun with dinner. It’s nothing fancy, but Hojun’s smile lights up his entire face and they spend the night cuddling in the couch, watching monster movies. Hojun kisses him, slow and sweet and familiar as Godzilla rampages through downtown Tokyo in black and white, and the ache inside Yunho’s chest is terrifying in its intensity. He doesn’t think about Changmin. He doesn’t think about how Changmin’s kisses are always so full of teeth and aggression and how they leave Yunho breathless, weak-kneed. Always wanting more.

He tumbles into bed with Hojun.

He doesn’t think about Changmin.

 

*

 

Another Wednesday and Yunho goes straight home.

He makes popcorn and stares at the television as he waits for Hojun to return. His back aches from all the boxes of court records he had to carry, but it’s better than being stuck in the office. It means he doesn’t have to worry over taking elevators, or staying back late to work on legal briefs and other documents. He’s in the middle of reliving Train to Busan when his phone lights up, a missed call. A few seconds later, it beeps with a message. Yunho deletes both and ignores how badly his hand shakes.

_Like an addict on withdrawal_ , the voice inside his head points out. It sounds unsurprisingly like Changmin. _You can’t quit him, can you?_

 

*

 

Yunho takes the stairs. He makes it a habit to go home with at least one other colleague, never actually alone after-hours.

He feeds Changmin’s card to a paper shredder.

 

*

 

Yunho doesn’t think about Changmin.

( _He dreams, however. Of Changmin’s hands and mouths and being fucked open so thoroughly, he doesn’t even remember his own name. Only Changmin’s. Changmin. Changmin. Changmin. A constant litany, in his own raw, wrecked voice. And he wakes to Hojun’s hands and mouths and being loved in achingly different ways so maybe this is it, this is what insanity feels like. This is what Hell looks like._ )  

 

*

 

Hojun’s away on another audition (he’d kissed Yunho awake that morning, for good luck) and the coffee machine’s making some odd, rattling noises. Yunho is trying to figure out if it’s about to explode and if his insurance covers death by coffee machine when the doorbell rings, sudden and sharp. His mind is still on the coffee machine when he opens the door, and sees Changmin standing on his doormat.

“You—” Yunho swallows, thinks about slamming the door shut. “Changmin, what are you doing?”

Changmin cocks his head. “Is he inside?”

Yunho should’ve said ‘ _yes, Hojun’s waiting for me, you should leave and never come back_ ’, but panic screeches inside his head and he can’t think straight. “No.”

Changmin’s smile is a cut of too-white teeth slashing across his face. It would’ve looked at home in a horror movie. “Good.”

Yunho isn’t prepared for the shove and he stumbles back, two three steps. The door closes. Changmin stands before him like the cardboard cutout of a nightmare. He reaches out and his fingers dig into Yunho’s skin, through his flimsy nightshirt. Claustrophobia closes around Yunho like the lid of a coffin.

“Why didn’t you come?”

It’s a question and a demand. It’s been months. Yunho’s head spins when he imagines Changmin waiting for him, week after week after week. Changmin’s grip tightens.

“I d-don’t want to s-see you anymore.”

A hand presses against Yunho’s chest, anchoring him in place. _There’s no escape_ , it says. The absolute certainty in Changmin’s voice terrifies Yunho even more than his bruising hands, the storm brewing in his eyes. “You don’t get to decide when it’s over.”

“ _Chang_ —”

Yunho’s protest is swallowed by Changmin’s lips, wet and hot and insistent as he licks Yunho’s mouth open. Yunho should tell him to stop, should push him away but he grips the lapels of Changmin’s suit instead and just hangs onto him. It’s a cruel truth, but he’d missed _this_ , missed Changmin. Missed how perfectly their bodies slot together, Changmin’s hard angles pressing deep into the softest parts of him. Missed how easily he gives in when Changmin’s teeth mark him up, territorial. Carnivorous. Yunho whimpers and gasps and arches into the kiss, vaguely aware that he’s backed against the wall and Changmin’s dragging fingernails along the bare skin of his hips.

It’s wrong, so so _wrong_ but Changmin is trailing kisses and bites along the line of his neck and he tilts his head back, wants more _oh god more please_ —

“Yunho?”  

—and he’s brought crashing back just like that.  

Changmin pulls back, but his hands still hold Yunho up. Small mercy, as Yunho can’t even feel his legs. He tilts his head and mutters, warm breath lashing the shell of Yunho’s ear, “Oh no, your boyfriend’s back.”

It’s mocking, condescending and Yunho finally gets the strength to push him away. Changmin goes easily, lips curving into an amused smile, as if revelling in this entire fucked up situation. Yunho’s still breathing heavily and Hojun is staring at him – the depth of betrayal and open pain he sees there cuts his insides into shreds, makes him wish the wall would swallow him whole. And spit him out on the other side of reality, where he’s never met Changmin. Where he’s happy with everything he already has, instead of caving into a self-destructive streak he doesn’t even know he possesses (before Changmin, never anyone else).

“I’ll leave you to sort things out,” Changmin says in a calm, unaffected drawl. Yunho hates him, then. He drags a thumb across Yunho’s bottom lip before Yunho can jerk away. “You know where to find me.”

Hojun starts forward, footsteps echoing loudly as he comes to them and throws a punch, which Changmin doesn’t even try to dodge. It connects with his jaw and his head snaps to the side, the sound ringing loud in the small hallway. Changmin just stands there as Hojun continues swinging his fist and Yunho moves before he even realises it, only concerned with stopping Hojun before he does too much damage. Hojun must’ve been too blinded by rage, because he doesn’t stop even when Yunho manages to wedge his way between the two. Another wild punch and Yunho tastes blood, pain blossoming from somewhere along his cheekbone.

Time stalls, the world frozen in place.

From the horrified look on Hojun’s face, Yunho figures he’d just been struck.

He doesn’t notice Changmin moving until it’s too late. A punch catches Hojun square in the face and he’s slammed off his feet by the sheer force of it. Yunho watches, slack-jawed, as Changmin moves to stand over Hojun and then drops to one knee. He fists the front of Hojun’s t-shirt and hauls him closer, each movement radiating barely-restrained fury. So unlike the cool, collected façade he’d worn so far. He doesn’t seem to care that Hojun’s bleeding, crimson spatter seeping over his knuckles and into the cuff of his shirt.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Changmin says, voice low and dangerous. Hojun’s eyes narrow and they flicker to Yunho, still dark with anger. Changmin jerks him forward, demanding his attention again. “You don’t hurt him. _Ever_.”

Changmin releases Hojun and straightens. Fixes his suit and runs a hand through his hair, as if this is nothing more than a slight disagreement. He brushes past Yunho as he heads for the door and then he’s gone. It’s a minute, maybe a lifetime later that Yunho runs after Changmin, chest tight and blood pounding in his ears. He catches up to him at the parking lot upfront, mercifully deserted except for a sleek black car too expensive for the neighbourhood. Changmin doesn’t look the least bit surprised to see Yunho, as if he’s already waiting. Yunho stops a few feet away and tries to make sense of all the screeching inside his head. The line of Changmin’s jaw flexes and Yunho thinks it’s a weakening, even if for a mayfly lifespan, before Changmin is solid again.  

He spits out, the words as hard as stones, “We’re done.”

“You come all the way here just to tell me that?” Changmin’s smirking, but it’s a lot less sharp. The bruises are starting to show and there’s dried blood where his lips are cut. “Like I said, you don’t get to decide when it’s over.”

Breath shudders out of Yunho, wet and sticky in his throat. His eyes prickle, the threat of tears making his voice crack. “It’s a mistake. What we did was a mistake. Why can’t you just— let go?”

Changmin’s gaze slips away like oil.

Silence stretches between them too loud, too long.

“We’re done,” Yunho repeats, because someone has to say something. He’s cold and light-headed, and he doesn’t know how he will fix this wreckage. But it’s his fault and he’s never the type to blame others for his own shortcomings. So he takes a step back, takes what little comfort the dawning realisation in Changmin’s eyes offers and says, “Goodbye, Changmin.”

He leaves Changmin there in the parking lot and doesn’t look back.

 

*

 

Yunho comes back to the sight of Hojun sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the wall across and a rag held to his nose.   

“We need to talk,” he says, quietly.

The only thing Yunho hears is the sound of his world falling apart.

 

*

 

He tells Hojun all about Changmin, about how it began and how he tried to end it. Hojun asks if they had sex ( _yes, we did_ ) and if Yunho loves Changmin ( _no, of course not_ , he says but he should’ve said _maybe, I don’t know_ ; it’s the only lie he affords himself). The conversation is horrible and Yunho hurts, looking at the way Hojun’s face twitches, shaky. Like he’s searching for a suitable expression to tell Yunho to get the fuck out of his life. He doesn’t, though, and they go to the clinic together. The nurse looks at them with suspicion as they sit in the waiting room. The doctor straightens Hojun’s nose and gives him painkillers, a couple changes of dressing. An advice to stay out of fistfights.

Neither of them suggests breaking up.

They’ve been together for so long that they haven’t really figured out how to live without each other. Yunho apologises, once more that night, and Hojun looks at him like he’s seeing someone else. A stranger, crying in their bedroom. It’s the first time in ten years that they go to bed without exchanging kisses and Yunho stays awake the entire night, listening to Hojun breathing in the dark. He thinks Hojun isn’t sleeping as well, but they’re facing opposite walls and he doesn’t reach out, too afraid to shatter this fragile, paperthin ice they’re treading on. He pretends to not see the bruised shadows underneath Hojun’s eyes the next morning.

Yunho tries to steer their life back to normalcy, but Hojun is different, quieter. More turned in on himself. Sometimes Yunho catches Hojun staring at him with a look that he can’t quite read, and his heart would beat a little faster. Always with apprehension, not with the warm, giddy anticipation that used to draw him into Hojun’s arms. The touches they exchange feel perfunctory, no longer carelessly playful and affectionate. When Hojun slides into him, Yunho flinches at the way his face contorts. He’s rougher, angrier and there’s something dark lurking in his eyes (like a question, like ‘ _did he fuck you better, was that why you cheated, you whore you cheap fucking whore, look what you did to us_ ’).

Yunho clenches his teeth and takes it all, because this is his fault.

Because Hojun deserves better, but he still stays and Yunho is so, so grateful he’ll take any punishment as long as he’s forgiven.

 

*

 

It’s late. The office is empty save for a cleaning lady a few cubicles down, and Yunho punches in the last few sentences in the report for one of the partners. His eyes are burning, back aching from hunching over for too long hours and it’s not the first time Yunho wishes he’d taken up a job that doesn’t come with being trapped inside an office. Maybe a forest ranger. Or the military. He stares at the ceiling and stretches as he waits for the printer to spit out the report so he can compile everything and go back home. Hojun had texted him earlier, that he’s spending the night at a friend’s place. Script reading, maybe.

Yunho thinks about dinner-for-one and his heart clenches.

The printer beeps. He double-checks the report. Says goodbye to the cleaning lady and he’s loosening the knot of his tie when the elevator comes down from the upper floors. It dings cheerfully, announcing its arrival, and the doors slide open.

Yunho freezes. Changmin’s smile gleams under the artificial light.

“I’ve been wondering when I’ll see you again.”

 

*

 

**end**


End file.
